


Feedback Loop

by Wolveria



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Jealousy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sixty experiences emotional vulnerability and immediately has to stick his dick in something, Sixty is allergic to fluff, Smut, Vaginal Sex, soft Sixty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolveria/pseuds/Wolveria
Summary: After breaking things off with Sixty, he shows up on your doorstep and reveals a side of himself that shakes you to your core.
Relationships: CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Original Female Character(s), CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60/Reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 146





	Feedback Loop

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aheadfullofdreams89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheadfullofdreams89/gifts).



> Happy birthday Yvie!! Here is the soft Sixty you deserve.
> 
> (Screenshot from @vrtuellereality on IG)

* * *

You were working at your terminal, oblivious to the low, ever-present murmur of the bullpen when a shadow darkened your desk. Your head jerked up, and for a moment you thought it was _him._

It wasn’t. It was only Connor, though the way he crookedly smiled at you was certainly different.

“Hey, Con,” you said, pulling your hands off the keyboard. “Something I can help you with?”

He sometimes went to you for questions about a case, or just to say hi and see how you were doing, but he seemed to have something different in mind.

“Not exactly.” He sat on the corner of your desk, a lot like how he did with Hank, but his expression was decidedly more mischievous. “I just wanted to tell you that you look nice today.”

“Nice?” You blinked like the bewildered creature you were.

“Very nice.”

His smile grew, and oh dear. _Oh dear._

“Are you free this weekend?” He looked down at the hands clasped in his lap and paused, as if his confidence was flagging. “I mean… it’s been a while since we’ve socialized outside of work. Ever since…”

Ah, yes. Ever since _The Incident_ everyone was too polite to talk about. You were grateful for that, because it wasn’t anyone’s business, and the sooner you moved on the better.

“Yeah, I know.” You smiled a little. “You’re right. I’ve missed you, Connor.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to fluster, his LED spinning yellow as a pink flush crept on his cheeks.

“I—yes.” He cleared his throat unnecessarily, and you half-expected him to reach up to adjust his tie. “I’ll come by your place at 8 o’clock this Friday. Is that all right?”

“Sounds perfect.” Your smile grew, and you patted his knee. “Can’t wait.”

Connor looked like he might short-circuit at the touch, but instead he peeled off your desk, gave you an awkward little smile, and hurried away at a stiff, nervous gait. You would have laughed, but that would have been unkind; Connor was doing his best, even if he was still a goofball.

You watched his retreat, and another pair of brown eyes caught your attention. They stared at you with a dark, heated intensity. You quickly turned away and returned to your work, face hot and heart thundering like a jackhammer. You couldn’t focus on your work after that, and it was just as well, because another shadow loomed over your desk. This one much more foreboding.

“What was that?” spoke a voice that sounded just like Connor’s with a tone that couldn’t have been more different.

You ignored it. Even though your heart raced and you felt like you were suffocating, you ignored it. It was the only way to make him go away. Go back to pretending you didn’t exist, something he’d become an expert in the last few weeks.

“Really?” the voice sneered. “You’re going to ignore me after so blatantly flirting with my brother—“

You jerked your chair around and glared up at the android ruining your day. Sixty leaned against your desk where Connor had been a few minutes earlier, arms crossed over his chest as he peered down his nose at you.

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped, hating how good his long legs looked, one crossed casually over the other. While Connor was still awkward in body language, Sixty had mastered it to an unfair degree. “And I _wasn’t_ flirting.”

“Yes, you were.” He leaned forward, giving you a nice view of his throat with the top button undone. “You get this shy little smile on your face, pretending your bashful while your eyes wander to places they shouldn’t.”

You rose to your feet, turning away from him to grab your purse. You’d forgotten to take a lunch, and right now was as good a time as any. Anything to get away from the android’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Your jealousy is not my problem,” you said, but when you tried to walk past him, he blocked your path. Sixty glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and then he pushed into your space, trapping you there with his hands on either side of you against the desk.

“Jealousy? I’m simply stating the truth.” He was too close, his breath hot on your lips, his eyes dark and dangerous. “Or did you forget I know what you look like when you want to spread your legs?”

You shoved him, hard. Perhaps too hard. You didn’t mean for him to stumble back so he lost his balance and hit the ground on his ass. You didn’t even know it was possible to catch him off-guard like that, being the advanced prototype that he was.

But you had. And for a split second, his LED was solid red and his expression was hurt. It passed so quickly it could have been wishful thinking, but you didn’t wait around to find out. With every other officer in the bullpen staring after you, you quickly left the station, grimacing as you wiped at your stinging eyes.

You’d email Fowler later to let him know you weren’t feeling good and you’d be gone the rest of the day. And while you were at it, maybe you could file for a transfer.

* * *

The email to the captain wasn’t a total lie. You felt like absolute shit as you lay bundled up on your couch, wallowing in misery and instant noodles. It was snowing outside fairly heavily, and you didn’t plan on going anywhere. Maybe for a while. You had vacation days saved up, and it might be a good idea to disappear until you could show your face in the station. What a humiliating day.

Connor would miss you, and so would Hank, but that wasn’t a good enough reason to stick around when _he_ was always there. You sensed his dark eyes following you, but whenever you turned to look, Sixty always had his attention elsewhere, pretending you didn’t exist.

It hurt so damn bad even though you were the one who left him. You’d been miserable, Sixty’s ego always coming before your relationship, and eventually you’d had enough. Human or android, you wouldn’t put up with that shit from anyone.

But a part of you had hoped, maybe, he would try to be better. Make an effort to get you back. Instead, he’d given you the cold shoulder and acted as if you were a stranger, only for you to swear he was watching your every move like a hawk. Today seemed to prove that theory, and it was driving you crazy. Something had to give, and you knew your sanity would break far sooner than Sixty’s love of control.

When the doorbell rang, you almost ignored it, but your phone informed you it was half past eight. Maybe it was Connor, a few days early but worried when he heard about your confrontation with his brother. You had little doubt it would be the gossip of the bullpen for hours.

That thought finally dragged you off the couch and to the front door, where you opened it and for a moment thought it _was_ Connor.

But you knew them both well enough by now to recognize the subtle differences. His posture, while stiff and uneasy, was still fluid enough to tell you it was Sixty.

Still, his expression was definitely un-Sixty-like. Half-melted snowflakes darkened his hair, his skin glistened in the hallway lights, and the shoulders of his jacket were damp. He looked like he’d been out in the storm for a while, and since he was deviant, he was probably cold and uncomfortable.

“Before you slam the door in my face,” he began, tone weary, “there’s something I want to say.”

“What do you want?” You maintained your grip on the door, the urge to shut it in his face very strong.

He released a breath, gazed down at his shoes, and mumbled, “Can I come in?”

You stared at him for a good long moment, debated the pros and cons of letting Sixty back into your apartment.

Pros: maybe he actually had something worthwhile to say.

Cons: It was Sixty.

“Fine.” You opened the door wider, allowing him entrance. “But only for a few minutes.”

His brows lifted in surprise.

“A few minutes are all I need.” The words were arrogant but his tone wasn’t, and he almost seemed nervous as he slipped past you over the threshold. That was strange. Sixty always covered his self-doubts with displays of bravado. That was kind of his thing.

But his confidence still hadn’t returned after you shut the door and followed him to the living room. He just stood there, hands hovering as if he didn’t know what to do with them, until he finally shoved them in his pockets. Over the white dress shirt he always wore was a windbreaker you’d bought for him months ago. You’d been worried the freezing temperatures would harm his biocomponents, and he’d laughed off your concern. He’d still kept it though, and the navy fabric went very well with his tight, dark wash jeans.

It wasn’t fair.

You stood a short distance away, arms crossed over your stomach in a gesture that was more protective than it was defensive. Seeing him here, in your house, it brought back so many memories and emotions you’d managed to lock away since you kicked him out. Now it was threatening to spill out all over again, and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch him. But you didn’t.

“Well?” you said, sharper than you meant to be. “What did you want to talk about?”

Sixty stared at the ceiling as if he’d find answers there. Or maybe he just didn’t want to look at you.

“I’m not… good at this,” he finally said. “I don’t know how to choose the right words and I’m pretty sure I’m going to make shit worse. But Hank said if I didn’t stop being a jackass and come talk to you—”

You blinked and walked around him to get a better look at his face.

“Hank? You’re here because _Hank_ told you to?”

“No! I—“ He met your eye, his expression pinched and upset. His LED was bright yellow, but you didn’t need to see it to know he was struggling. “I’m here because I…”

He turned away from you but not fast enough for you to miss the flash of red.

“Six?” you asked, softer than the tone you’d used with him lately. “What’s going on?”

Moving toward him when he didn’t answer, your hand slightly trembled as you reached out and rested your fingers on his arm.

He whirled around, grabbed you by the shoulders, and pulled you hard against his chest. You gasped, startled and frozen, but Sixty only hugged you tight, burying his face against your hair.

“I’m sorry, okay?” he choked out. “I’m sorry I’m such an asshole. I’m sorry I sabotaged our relationship. And I’m sorry I made you so miserable that you had to leave.”

You didn’t move, couldn’t even breath as Sixty continued to tremble around you, holding on as if you were a lifeline. He’d never acted this way before, emotionally vulnerable and exposed. Almost… afraid? Where was the confident, arrogant android that had broken your heart?

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said so softly you could barely hear it. “I _can’t_ lose you. I would rather feel nothing at all, go back to being a machine. I don’t want to be alive if this is what living feels like.”

“Six…”

That was all you said, your little nickname for him. Created at first to annoy and antagonize him, until it became a pet name, and then finally a term of endearment.

“I’m not saying this… to make you feel sorry for me.”

He didn’t need to breathe, but warm puffs of air tickled your throat. It was comforting and familiar.

“I’m not going to trick and manipulate you, even though that’s what I was designed to do. I just... had to see you one last time. Tell you it wasn’t your fault. And… apologize. For all the shit I did. I thought ignoring you would make it better. Make this-this _feeling_ go away. It didn’t. I… fucked up.”

You slowly raised your arms and wrapped them around his waist, returning the hug, wanting to touch him, be close to him again despite the warning signs. Or maybe because of them. With Sixty, they came with the territory.

And the fact was, he was hurting. You were too. The way you’d been ignoring each other was pure misery, and you’d had no idea it had negatively affected him too.

You slowly pulled away, preparing yourself to tell him that while his apology was a big step in the right direction, it would take more than words to fix the damage he’d done.

But the words died in your throat. His eyes were large and glassy, brows turned up in worry or sadness, as if he was bracing himself for your rejection. It was unbelievably raw, and you’d had no idea Sixty could even make that expression.

Like a dam breaking behind flooding waters, you surged forward, capturing his lips with yours. He made a surprised sound, red cycling out of the corner of your vision before you closed your eyes. You fisted his jacket in your hands and pulled so he was flush against you.

Sixty was many things. Arrogant, haughty, with an ego the size of CyberLife Tower. But one thing he could never do was deny you, and with the hard bulge shoved against your hip, you knew he didn’t want to.

Sixty lifted you up, never breaking the kiss as he wrapped your legs around his waist, and he carried you to your bedroom, somehow without looking where he was going. Probably used his goddamn X-ray scanners.

He followed you down onto the bed, barely letting you draw breath as he lifted off your shirt and fumbled at your pants. Your bra was already gone, having been removed in preparation for your night in, and he hungrily groaned as he kissed down your collarbone to your chest.

You ran your hands through his soft hair, ruining his immaculate style, but he didn’t even notice as he finally tugged off your pants. His hands were everywhere, running along your stomach, your hips, down your legs as he yanked them open and settled between them. He was still completely dressed and you were almost naked.

Fingers fumbling, you tugged down his jacket zipper and tried to pull it off his shoulders, but Sixty was making things difficult, slowly rolling his hips against yours, torturing you.

“Damnit, Sixty,” you cursed, gasping when he nipped at your shoulder. He dipped his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear and practically purred at what he found.

“This all for me, sweetheart?”

In lieu of responding, you moaned and thrust your pelvis against his hand, but he only chuckled and held your hip down with his other hand.

“Now, now.” He pulled his head up to smirk at you. The loose curl of hair hung across his forehead, giving him an especially devilish look. “I want to hear you say it.”

Sixty loved being in control. He got off on the sense of power, and you knew part of that had to do with the fact he’d had none at the beginning of his short life. No power, no control, no choice. Just a thing to be used and thrown away.

Well. You’d have to show him that sometimes, losing control and being under someone else’s power could be a thrilling thing.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of your underwear, earning you a surprised, disappointed expression. You almost smiled, but that would have ruined the ruse.

Maintaining eye contact, you took his long fingers, glistening with your juices, and popped two of them into your mouth. You closed your eyes partway and groaned around his fingers, your tongue licking up your own slick from the sensitive pads of his digits.

Sixty’s pupils went fully blown, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, and when his LED shifted from yellow to red, your plan had worked. He rose off the mattress where he’d been kneeling and pulled off his jacket and shirt, giving you a full view of his pale, lightly muscled torso.

Next came off the shoes and jeans, yanked off clumsy in his haste, and you might have teased him if not for the large cock that sprang out of his pants, hard and flushed.

Sixty didn’t give you time to admire it; he grabbed you by the hips and dragged you to the edge of the bed. He tugged off your underwear, rubbed the head of his cock against your opening to make sure you were wet enough, and then _pushed._

Giving you no time to prepare, you arched your back and struggled to breathe, fisting the sheets as he kept going. He was thick, and long, and the people who had designed him had apparently decided he needed to be well-endowed. Whatever the reason, you were sure enjoying the fruits of their labor.

“Fuck, oh _fuck_ , Sixty.”

He didn’t laugh or even make a snide comment. You weren’t sure if he was even breathing, his brow creased in concentration as he gripped you tight, not stopping until he was fully embedded within your slick heat.

Only then were you able to fill your lungs, and then the next breath of air was cut off as he kissed you, hungrily and deep, his tongue plunging into your mouth as his cock twitched inside you. You moaned, digging your nails into his back, not afraid you would hurt him as you dug deep and wrapped your legs around his waist.

Normally, Sixty liked to draw out the foreplay, exploring all the ways he could take you apart. But not this time. It was like he couldn’t wait, too impatient and greedy as he began to move, hips jolting against yours as he set a hard pace.

You hadn’t been touched like this in weeks, not even by your own hand, and each thrust was a burst of sparks behind your eyelids. You broke the kiss and clung to him for dear life, whimpering when his lips attached to your neck, sucking mercilessly. You were going to have bruises all over you tomorrow for everyone to see, and you loved it. You wanted Sixty to make you his, to never leave you in a cold, empty bed ever again.

You groaned his name, tried to meet his hips as he set a brutal pace, but he had your thighs trapped open as he fucked you from the edge of the bed. You were getting close but you weren’t quite there yet; Sixty must have known, because he gripped your hips and pulled them up so he could thrust even deeper.

Tears pricked in your eyes as he hit your sensitive spot over and over, driving the pressure in your pelvis to new heights. You were babbling nonsense, a mixture of his name and pleas for him to never leave again. Sixty responded with promises that he wouldn’t while peppering desperate kisses all over your face and neck.

And then he said three words he’d never said before, low and throaty and right into your ear, and you came undone with tears running down your face and a cry on your lips. The pleasure was so intense you weren’t sure when you came down from it, only that he fucked you straight through your orgasm without stopping.

You squirmed and whimpered, oversensitive, and you moaned his name again and again, not sure what you were asking for. He snapped his hips forward and choked out a groan, burying his face into your neck as he throbbed deep inside you.

Floating blissfully, you sighed and petted his hair, pressing a kiss to his red LED and watching as it slowly downgraded to yellow and finally blue. Sixty turned his head away from you as he panted, his breath too uncomfortably hot for human skin as he attempted to cool his internal components.

Without a word he got up and went to the bathroom, returning with a warm cloth. He seemed almost shy as he cleaned you up, not speaking until he was done cleaning himself up as well.

“I suppose… I should go,” he said, avoiding your eye as he went to retrieve his pants. You stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“You’re staying right here.” You tugged him back toward the bed and pulled back the covers. He didn’t get inside, his frown unsure. “Please?”

He didn’t move, chewing the inside of his cheek, and when you feared he might actually leave Sixty slid under the covers and pulled you in close. You hummed contentedly as you leaned your cheek against his chest.

“Plus,” you said with a smirk, “we still need to talk.”

Sixty groaned.

“Ugh. _Talking_.”

“Yes, talking.” You poked his side. “Babbling while you dick me down, doesn’t count.”

“Sure it does. I meant everything I said during the dick-talk.”

You ignored his attempt at a joke and pulled back to look at him.

_“Everything?”_

Sixty looked away, pressing his lips together into a thin line, but the adorable blush on his cheeks was answer enough.

“You love me,” you said, grinning. Sixty tsked and refused to meet your eye. “You really, _really_ love me.”

Grumbling, he turned his head into the pillow. You didn’t know his face could even turn that shade of red. You grinned and rained down kisses on his exposed neck, merciless in your revenge.

 _“Sixty’s in love,”_ you sang, your fingers finding the spot just beneath his thirium pump regulator where he was ticklish. _“Sixty wants to kiss me.”_

“Shut up, no I don’t.” The effect of his words were lost by the fact he whined them into the pillow, drawing his limbs up so you couldn’t reach his tickling spots.

“You love me and you want to kiss me.”

“I-no-“ His voice warbled, glitchy with embarrassment, and this time you did laugh.

You also decided to grant him a reprieve and stopped tickling him, instead flopping half on top of him, taking advantage of the fact he’d curled into a ball. You could definitely get used to a softer, bashful Sixty, a side of him no one else got to see.

“So…” He cleared his throat like the suddenly awkward android he was. “Are you still going to see Connor on Friday?”

You broke into a wide smile. Oh, this was too delicious.

“What do you mean?” you asked, drawing a circle on his chest, dangerously close to the tickling spot of his regulator. “Do you think something would happen if I did?”

He managed to keep his expression closed, but the blaring red ring was a dead giveaway. You smiled and kissed him on the cheek, laughing when he made a face.

“You really are jealous.”

“I’m _not—“_

“Yes, I’m going to hang out with Connor. Because he’s my friend and I adore him. But that’s all it is, Six. Connor is not your replacement.”

That was his exact fear, and you knew that, because you knew him as intimately as you knew yourself.

He took a slow, steadying breath, and his LED finally cooled to a slow blue. You buried your face in his neck, smiling at first, and then letting the full weight of everything settle on your shoulders.

“I really missed you,” you said, suddenly quite serious. “I want you to stay. Not just for tonight.”

Sixty slowly uncurled his arms and looked up at you out of the corner of his eye. Hopeful but with a hint of wariness. You understood he had abandonment issues. His baggage with Connor and Hank, the manipulation by Amanda. He was terrified of letting people get close, and he compensated by being an insufferable jerk.

It was moments like these that revealed it was all a set of armor, made to protect him from being hurt again. It was one of the things you had to show him about living: being hurt was inevitable, but so was being loved, if he was willing to let it happen.

“I missed you too,” he said softly. The crooked little smile he gave was charming but also fragile. “And… I want to come home.”

He lifted his arm so you could snuggle back against his chest, and you did, breathing in that faint, silicone scent you associated with androids. It was one that used to make you happy, and lately had just brought you pain. You didn’t want to feel like that ever again.

“It’s going to take work. _Real_ work,” you said. “We can’t just fuck our way out of it.”

His lips formed into a grin against your temple.

“We could always try.”

_“Sixty.”_

“Fine. Talk first, fuck you into a crying mess after.”

You closed your eyes and sighed, trying to pass off the sudden warmth between your legs as mild annoyance. Sixty could read you even without a scanner, so there was little doubt he knew the effect he had on you.

“And no more getting jealous of Connor.”

He grumbled like a puppy having his favorite toy taken away.

 _“And,”_ you raised your voice to be heard over his pouting, “you move back in immediately.”

Sixty flipped you on to your back, hovering above you with a grin like a shark’s.

“I agree to your terms. Shall we seal the deal?”

You nodded, unsure how he planned to do that. You were not disappointed when he leaned down and pressed his lips warmly to yours, one hand on your cheek while the other crept down your hip. Sixty smirked against your mouth as he dragged the tip of his cock against your entrance.

The bastard was insatiable, but at the end of the day, he was no one’s bastard but yours.


End file.
